#hors collection

[garadinervi]

Cy Twombly, «Cahier de la Collection Lambert», [Actes Sud] Beaux-Arts / Hors collection, Actes Sud, Arles, 2022

/ l’Altissimo /

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

Hi, sorry if this is a weird question but I'm a bit confused. How do I get Abyss Flower? I have Abyss fully leveled but it won't show up in the divine key tune. Do I really need multiple copies of it? Because I can't craft any more.

Its a different weapon you’ll have to gacha for, condolences.

[yourcoffeeguru]

Vintage Pewter Hors d'oeuvres Cocktail 6 Mini Fork Golf Bat and Bag Set SPAIN

Golf Roy Kirkham 1997 Fine Bone China Footed Mug made in ENGLAND Collectable VTG

HENRY SCHEIN REGIONAL KEY RING Holder with Magnetic Golf Tier Boxed

[punchi]

Working short staffed is a joke i feel like a factory worker except they get paid more to work a 6 day stretch w 1 day off. 🙃

[jisatsual]

[teojira]

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[mask131]

A guide for reading The Sandman: Part 2

So... You have read the full Sandman series. You went from issue 1 to issue 75. From beginning to end. You had all the ten volumes. Congrats!

But I am sorry to tell you, you don’t actually have the full Sandman story. You see, Neil Gaiman wrote and created much more than just the numbered issues. He created a lot of side-stories, side volumes and “specials” whose presence are either exciting and thrilling additions to the Sandman mythos, or key elements needed to understand the plots and happenings of the main story. Don’t get me wrong, if you just read the numbered issues you’ll get the full story without problem. But you’ll still be missing the second part of the complete Sandman world. The “specials”. In French we have a clever word for that: the “hors-séries” (literally means “outside of the series”, it is still part of the world but not inside the numbered series).

Given there is a lot of those specials, I’ll classify them by “publishing order”. You’ll get what I mean. 

    I) The Sandman library

After being released as a series of numbered issues, The Sandman was collected in the ten volumes I described previously. Out of these volumes, one included actually more than just the numbered issues: volume 6, “Fables and Reflections”, added two Sandman specials.

# “Fear of Falling” was originally a story published as its own for a one-shot issue called “Vertigo Preview” whose function, as the name indicates, was to serve as a big preview for most of the Vertigo titles. As a result, the issue contains previews and half-stories for most of the Vertigo titles: Hellblazer, Doom Patrol, Swamp Thing, Shade the Changing Man... It also includes previews for two specials I will talk about later, Death: The High Cost of Living, and Sandman Mystery Theater. But these are all just previews. There is only one full, complete story, which is precisely “Fear of Falling”, conceived originally as a way to give a taste of Sandman to newcomers.

# The Song of Orpheus. Originally it was published as its own as “The Sandman Special”, but it was included into this first collection of Sandman issues due to how important the story is : for you see, it gives the complete backstory of Orpheus, who is an important character in The Sandman. And while just a retelling of the myth, it is still very precious to understand the full impact of the character. 

   II) The 30th anniversary edition

After publishing those ten volumes, DC celebrated the 30th birthday of The Sandman by reprinting them... WITH FOUR BONUS VOLUMES!!!

# The first added Volume, Volume 11, is called “Endless Nights”. This specific volume was originally published as its own under the name “The Sandman: Endless Nights”. Published in 2003, so long after the end of The Sandman, it is a set of seven stories, each centered around a different Endless sibling, and their whole purpose is just to further expand the world of The Sandman, and flesh out more the other Endlesses by showing stories from THEIR perspectives. It is technically an “anthology volume / expansion volume” that is not needed to understand the full story, but makes a nice addition to better understand the scope of the world and the working of the Endless. It does however contains spoilers for “Brief Lives” and further, so... it is at its right place as “Volume 11″. 

# The second added Volume is NOT called Volume 12 as you would expect. It is rather called... Volume ∞. Of its full name: The Sandman: Overture. This volume was originally a six-part limited series created by Neil Gaiman in 2013 (so LONG after the end of The Sandman, and well after Endless Nights). This is the latest and final work by Neil Gaiman in The Sandman world so far, and it was designed as a sort of “grand finale”. Some people will tell you “It is the first work in chronological order so you should begin here”. DO NOT DARE! THESE PEOPLE ARE LYING TO YOU! Beginning here is the WORST idea you can have. If you want to begin The Sandman, you begin at issue 1, like Neil Gaiman himself. 

For you see, “Overture” is a dual story, two series of events tied together that happen, one after the end of The Sandman (so after issue 75) and the other before the beginning of the Sandman (so before issue 1). Overture is both the prologue to The Sandman AND its epilogue. Beginning and end, alpha and omega... Hence the  ∞ symbol. It is without a doubt the best way to end the series.

# The two other volumes are both unumbered and called “The Sandman: The Dream Hunters”. And they both tell the same story. So why are there two volumes? Because one is an illustrated novel, and the other is a full comic book issue.

Originally, Neil Gaiman published “The Dream Hunters” as a novel/novella in 1999 (so three years after the end of The Sandman, but before the publication of Endless Nights). It was a fictional story he invented, based upon and inspired by Japanese folklore and Japanese fairytales. Illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano, it takes place in The Sandman world, though it is not part of the main plot and you can actually read the story with no prior knowledge of The Sandman. It became so popular that for the 20th anniversary of The Sandman, in 2008-2009, the novel was adapted into a comic book, a four part mini-series that became its own Sandman volume. 

Fun fact: when Neil Gaiman published the story, he wrote in it a fake “origin” claiming he was just adaptating a part of Ozaki’s famous “Old Japanese Fairy Tales”. It was a lie, as Neil Gaiman had entirely invented the story, but it fooled a lot of people who sincerely believed it was some sort of secret or missing story from Ozaki’s book. (He notably had to clear up the matter in “Endless Nights”). 

    III) The Absolute Sandman

Now you probably think: wow... this is a lot. But I got everything, right? NO YOU FOOL! DC, seeing the enormous success of The Sandman, decided to reprint a new edition of the compilation: The Absolute Sandman, even bigger than the 30th Anniversary edition. Not ten or twelve volumes, but rather six (five numbered volumes plus Overture), containing everything I talked about above (The Sandman Special, Endless Nights, Overture, The Dream Hunters...). Plus more specials not yet included in compilations! Resulting in five volumes + The Absolute Sandman: Overture + one special volume called “The Absolute Death”. 

# The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge comics. Vertigo’s Winter Edge was a limited series published from 1998 to 2000 celebrating, every winter, the different lines and series of the Vertigo imprint with special stories. It ran for three issues, and each of them has one story created by Neil Gaiman tied with or part of The Sandman universe. One will maybe ring familiar to the viewers of the show: “A Winter’s Tale”, published in the second issue (1999). This story is actually a description of Death’s backstory, answering many questions about her “life” before the events of The Sandman (and also revealing answers to some questions raised in “Endless Nights”, even though it was published AFTER this story). Parts of it were adapted in the first season of The Sandman tv show. 

The other two stories of Winter’s Edge are “The Flowers of Romance”, from Winter Edge 1998 and “How They Met Themselves” from Winter Edge 2000. These stories are fascinating because they actually depict Desire as the protagonist and “hero”. You see, as Gaiman points out, Desire plays an antagonistic role in The Sandman merely because Dream is the protagonist. But here he decided, why not show the reverse, the world where Desire is the protagonist, the “nice” side of Desire: the result are those two stories. 

[ The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge issues also contain stories belonging to “The Dreaming”, a spin-off of The Sandman, but given Neil Gaiman was not involved in those I’ll keep it for a later post]

# “The Castle”. This story was originally published in “Vertigo Jam”, which is basically quite similar to “Vertigo Preview” and “Vertigo: Winter Edge”, just a one-shot issue that was an anthology of various stories, each taking place in a different series of the Vertigo imprint. 

# The Death mini-series. In 1993, the same year as The Dream Hunters, Neil Gaiman wrote a mini-series with Death as the main protagonist. It was called “Death: The High Cost of Living”. This Death-centered story had three years later a “twin mini-series”: “Death: The Time of Your Life” in 1996 (coupled with the return of Hazel and Foxglove from “A Game of You”). These two were then gathered here as a duo in a special volume of The Absolute Sandman called “The Absolute Death” and centered around, you guessed it, lot of Death material. 

# The “educational” Sandman. This “Absolute Death” volume also contains two “PSA material” or “Very Special Episode” issues. One is a story centered around Destruction and called “The Wheel”, which was originally part of a very special DC volume: 9-11: The world’s finest comic book writers and artists tell stories to remember. You can safely guess what the story is about. The second story is not actually a story, but a Death-centered AIDs pamphlet called “Death Talks About Life”. It had been originally coupled with several other issues of DC comics: it was found in the issue 32 of “Shade the Changing Man” (the 1990 series) ; it was also found in the 62nd issue of Hellblazer, and finally in the 46th issue of The Sandman. But it also existed as its own, unique pamphlet distributed in schools to raise awareness of HIV and AIDS. 

# Sandman Midnight Theater. The last of the specials created by Neil Gaiman, and one of the last pieces to The Sandman puzzle. Long story short... There were several “Sandman” super-heroes in the DC Universe. In fact, Neil Gaiman began “The Sandman” as his own personal take on the several Sandmen super-heroes of the DC world. The very first of those Sandmen was Wesley Dodds, a Batman-like vigilante of the 30s that was part of the Golden Age of comics. In fact, Wesley Dodds himself appears in the first issue of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, and is part of The Sandman universe. After the end of Neil Gaiman’s series, the popularity of Wesley Dodds increased again and so in 1993 was launched a “reboot” of the original adventures of the Sandman, a new series around Dodds called “Sandman Mystery Theater”. 

Sandman Midnight Theater is precisely a crossover issue between Sandman Mystery Theater and Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. 

# “The Last Sandman Story”. This is actually not a comic book story. It was a prose story, semi-autobiographical, written by Neil Gaiman for “Dustcovers: The Collected Sandman Covers”, which as the name says compiled all of the covers of Dave McKean (plus I think he also illustrated this specific story?). It a sort of confession story, a text by Neil Gaiman about real-life and his relationship with The Sandman series and the character of Dream. And, as the name says, it was written to be released at the conclusion of the main series, post-issue 75. 

  There you go! These are all the specials created by Neil Gaiman and that are part of the canon and official Sandman series. Of course there is more bonus to talk about: Neil Gaiman gave a lot of interviews about The Sandman in which he reveals all sorts of details and secrets, and they can be found across various books - the Sandman Companion, the Absolute Sandman editions, the Omnibus Sandman editions, there’s plenty of places to look at. 

So... is it done? Is it over?

Yes and no. With this, you have covered everything in The Sandman world made by Neil Gaiman. So this is basically all the “canon”. 

But The Sandman created a lot of spin-offs and side-stories that were not created or that are not linked to Neil Gaiman... as with many comic book worlds, it expanded beyond its original creator. So maybe I will cover all the non-Neil Gaiman Sandman stories in a third part. Maybe. If I have time.

[garadinervi]

Stéphane Ibars, Niele Toroni, «Cahier de la Collection Lambert», [Actes Sud] Beaux-Arts / Hors collection, Actes Sud, Arles, 2021

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

fairest city food culture

This is a supplementary post to continue off of this larger TWST food culture compilation post (as that one is getting super long as is). Here, I'll cover all the new food-related lore dropped about the Shaftlands and specifically about Fairest City, which features in the Tapis Rouge event.

Shaftlands

Macarons are one of the Shaftlands' signature sweets. Cream and raspberry, as well as lychee, are the popular flavors at the moment.

Macarons can be frozen so recipients can eat them fresh.

There are people who collect the stylish boxes that macarons come in.

According to Vil, mixing flavored syrups with carbonated liquids is common in the Shaftlands.

Stewed foods are the Shaftlands' specialty. This is because there are many stories about the Fairest Queen preparing many foods in a pot.

Apples are the most popular fruit in the Shaftlands. They are used for drinks, desserts, jams, and even savory meal items.

Fairest City

There are few food stands in Fairest City. This is because eating on the streets is seen as bad manners.

There is a strong cafe culture.

Fairest City is famous for its cuisine and sweets. Their sweets in particular are well developed due to the city's cafe culture.

Sweets with a pleasant appearance are popular. The most famous of patisseries make sweets which are like pieces of art.

Some sweets featured in famous patisseries include tarts, chocolate, mousse, macarons, brioche, roll cakes, financiers, mille-feuilles, and cakes shaped like apples with apple sauce inside, caramel apples, etc.

A specialty of Fairest City is "cream puff rings", which are cream puffs in ring shapes. They are meant to resemble wheels on rail cars, since Fairest City is located near mines. It is said that the cream puff rings (which is filled with a thick, high-calorie cream) were originally given to hard-working miners to restore their energy.

Luxury stores may offer amenities in addition to providing their services or helping customers shop. For example, staff may offer VIP clients drinks or chocolates.

Fairest City’s hotels have swanky restaurants built into them for guests to dine in. The fanciest of eating establishments are five star restaurants that have full sets of cutlery and napkins which you unfold and place in your lap.

Fancy dining establishments offer food à la carte (ordered by the plate) and prix fixe style (picking your courses from a predetermined selection).

There is a drink called “Diabolo Menthe” served in Fairest City. It is a spearmint flavored syrup mixed with a slightly carbonated liquid. Very refreshing! (This is most likely a reference to the potion that the Evil Queen drinks to transform into an old woman.)

Eric Venue, Vil’s famous movie star father, uses a five-star restaurant to cater buffets for his movie shoots for every 6 hours of work. They also have snacks and drinks on demand (“craft services”), which includes coffee, milk, tea, juice, chocolate, fruits, and pancakes and waffles. Lots of light foods!

Many dishes at high-class eateries are French. For example, hors d’oeuvres might include escargot (snails), foie gras de canard (duck foie gras), and terrine a la campagne (country-style terrine). Courses are also named in French (viande and poisson courses, etc.).

Some dishes served include boeuf bourguignon (a beef and red wine stew) filet mignon de porc aux pruneaux (a pork filet with dried plum; it is made with pig heart, bouillon, and sauce), and flounder poêlé (flounder with an herb sauce). The beef bourguignon is a favorite dish in the five-star hotel restaurant that caters for Eric Venue.

Pork, especially the heart, is prized meat in Fairest City. Many of its dishes are pork-based. There is a story about how the Fairest Queen needed a heart for one of her potions and had her huntsman hunt as a tribute to her; the filet mignon de porc aux pruneaux dish was born from this legend.

The restaurant that caters for Eric Venue has a specialty dessert called tart fine pomme. It is a thin tart with slices apples. The restaurant uses the highest quality of apples (from Harveston), which are grown in a special soil, for their dishes and drinks.

[libellule-ao3]

NSFW Alphabet | Dark!Ominis

Picture Credit: @dvinaamesca

Hello,

Somebody asked me for it, so here it is.🙂

Summary: Some of my smutty headcanons about Dark!Ominis, collected under the "NSFW alphabet" template.

🔞| SMUT | Head-Canon

⚠️ The "Dark!" in Dark!Ominis shows an alternative version exploring the darker aspects of Ominis' personality. According to my version, Dark!Ominis is possessive, dominant and manipulative, which implies elements with dub-con and non-con!

Other tags: domination, possessive ominis, manipulation, erotic asphyxiation, unforgivable curses, praise kink, blood pact, etc....

Since Dark!Ominis is a darker version of my perception of Ominis, some elements of this article may echo my NSFW alphabet of Ominis Gaunt or my HC: Ominis, his eyes & his experience as a blind wizard

Masterlist

A = Aftercare

After turning you into an amorphous, trembling wreck, Dark!Ominis likes to stay snuggled until your last shudder, his head against your chest to listen to the rapid beating of your heart, which beats only for him.

Then he looks after your well-being, taking care of your basic needs such as the care of your injuries inherent in the intensity of your lovemaking (bruises, chafing, burns, etc.), hygiene, diet and hydration. During this process, he wraps you in a softness that is so comforting it surprises you the first time, forcing him to remind you that you belong to him and that Ominis Gaunt, however dark he may be, always takes care of what belongs to him! Don’t forget that!

B = Body part

Ominis loves your skin. Its texture, its warmth, its smell... It’s both the direct interface with your soul and the playground where he can exert his power over you. He alone has the privilege of setting it on fire, making it quiver, marking it, breathing it, tasting it, hurting it and even... repairing it, for the pleasure of starting all over again.

C = Cum

Cumming in you is an affirmation of his total domination. However, his refusal to perpetuate his cursed lineage and his categorical refusal to share you means he will only release himself inside you if you have effective contraception. If not, he will impose one on you, and you should know that he will not hesitate to rip out any life that dares to take root in you.

D = Dirty secret

Although not normally given to exhibitionism, Dark!Ominis sometimes imagines reaffirming his exclusive possession of your charms before the entire world, especially when he witnesses the desire you arouse in someone else. Rather than act out his fantasies in the public arena, he prefers to eliminate any rivalry by cunningly imposing unshakeable bonds, such as an inviolable oath or a blood pact. And all to seal your commitment to each other.

E = Experience

If not an experienced man, Dark!Ominis is an intuitive, well-informed and terribly possessive one whose sole aim is to make you inextricably dependent on him. So he’s fervently committed to outdoing the competition, leaving such an ardent mark that even in your fantasies, it’s impossible to imagine anyone else being able to satisfy you.

F = Favourite position

His favourite position is to have you, bound and helpless, your perfection stretched out suggestively, ready to be savoured, punished or screwed as you deserve. This way, he has full control over what he gives you.

He also likes to have you, standing, chained with your arms and legs spread wide, every inch of your body quivering, accessible and ready to suffer the slightest of his whims.

G = Goofy

Dominating you and turning your body into a ruin of total dependence on him is too serious a matter to laugh at.

H = Hair

Particularly self-aware, Dark!Ominis always makes sure his appearance is impeccable so as not to attract unwanted attention. So he takes care of his appearance and trims his modest body hair. He expects you to do the same, even shaving your private area himself, turning the moment into a unique experience that’s as sensual as it is dangerous - and, much to your chagrin, horribly arousing.

I = Intimacy

The few people he’s ever loved deeply have all left him in the end, and he lives in fear that you, the only person he wants by his side, will leave him too. That’s part of the reason Dark!Ominis seeks intense intimacy during your lovemaking. It strengthens your bond and therefore his hold over you, giving him feel security. It soothes his anxieties about losing you and makes the love you’re supposed to feel for him tangible.

J = Jack off

When he was a teenager, Dark!Ominis saw masturbation as a lack of control over his impulses and, because of his strict upbringing, he associated it with depravity. As a result, he strongly repressed his sexual needs rather than satisfying them.

Today, he’s perfectly comfortable with his sexuality and his darkest desires, but he doesn’t jerk off. Why should he when you’re a slave to his lust?

K = Kink

In his eyes, your total submission is embodied in the ecstasy of erotic asphyxiation.

Closing his hand around your offered throat, savouring your life pulsing under his fingers as he possesses you in the most absolute way, holding the ultimate power of having your existence at his mercy is the quintessence of his domination. He loves to deprive you of oxygen while the pleasure builds and contracts in your core like a spring, and then for you to take in all the air, he allows you to take in as the lust surges through your body, flooding every cell.

It may seem paradoxical, but Dark!Ominis has an enormous need for validation. Receiving your praise reinforces his sense of control and power over you. Also, your praise boosts his self-esteem, which has been damaged by his traumas, and reduces his anxiety about you leaving him.

Like Ominis, he also enjoys temperature play for the variety and sensory intensity.

Dark!Ominis excels at summoning snakes, albino cobras, using the Snake Summons Spell. Far from being mere creatures, his sinister and sensual hissing transforms these reptiles into instruments of immobilisation, torture or, to your shame, pleasure.

L = Location

As soon as you agree to submit to his authority, he orchestrates your immediate removal to his lair, a place where he exercises total control over his environment and over you. In his territory, you have no choice but to bend to his wishes.

In the event of merit or misconduct outside, he uses spells to ensure your privacy while he rewards you or inflicts the punishment you deserve.

As a game, he sometimes takes pleasure in tormenting you discreetly with his fingers or his wand at social events, thus asserting his dominance and constantly reminding you of who you belong to.

M = Motivation

You. No more, no less. When you provoke him, when your kindness envelops him like a soft, warm blanket, when he feels your gaze weighing on him, the smell of your arousal, the jealousy, the need for affection... You and more you...

N = No

Dark!Ominis can be manipulative to get what he wants from you, and he enjoys hurting you until it gives you pleasure. But, dark as he is, unforgivable curses are his red line. He knows that imperius and even cruciatus curse are sometimes used for erotic, but he categorically refuses.

Cuckolding: You belong to him and exclusivity is the pillar of your relationship. Under these conditions, sharing you with someone else makes no sense.

69: When he’s eating you, Ominis refuses to be distracted by anything, even if it’s your greedy mouth.

O = Oral

Destroying your throat with his cock is certainly the most delicious tihing ever. But he also likes to savour what is rightfully his.

P = Pace

He usually savours every moment, taking pleasure in correcting you, forcing your body into submission if you upset him. While his tempo flirts with his changing moods, one constant remains: the amplitude of his movements. He loves to feel every inch of his length opening up your walls, pulling out before thrusting back into you, hard, until his hips slam against yours again and again.

Q = Quickie

He prefers to take his time. However, to punish you and remind you he owns you, he may sometimes force your body to accommodate him to his selfish climax and leave you frustrated with the desire he’s aroused despite you.

R = Risk

Dark!Ominis experiments a lot at beginning your relationship in order to study your reactions, test your limits, and then push them back. But once he’s analysed you, he generally sticks to tried and tested practices.

S = Stamina

Dark!Ominis has patience and determination in spades. Whether he’s punishing you or rewarding you, he can deal with you for hours on end.

T = Toys

Like Ominis, Dark!Ominis disdains the use of toys. They hinder his connection to the nuances of the reactions he provokes (he's already deprived of his sight, he needs to perceive all your sensations). However, he revels in a luxuriant range of accessories and spells to intensify your sessions,

U = Unfair

Dark!Ominis can be profoundly unfair, revelling in the simple pleasure of hearing you beg and sob, pleading for deliverance.

One of his favourite torments is to explore and then relentlessly push back the limits of your pleasure, whether by forcing your orgasms or delaying them.

What’s more, if you’re in need of punishment, Dark!Ominis won’t hesitate to keep you on the edge, making you look forward to a more intense climax than ever, before destroying the orgasm you covet more than anything, thus reinforcing his dominance over you.

V = Volume

His acute self-awareness means that he muffles against you or in his hand the sounds that want to come out of his mouth. However, he demands that you release every cry, every groan, every gasp, and that your lips proclaim to the world who owns you.

W = Wild card

Dark!Ominis is possessive, manipulative, and dominant. However, if he’s in a familiar environment, he may accept a temporary reversal of roles, either to reward you or for strategic reasons.

X = X-ray

Dark!Ominis is tall, slim... His skin is as clear as porcelain, a constellation of moles stretching from his flank to his pubis. His nipples are the same pink as his lips. While not exceptional, Dark!Ominis is rather well equipped in length and girth, straight as an ‘I’.

Y = Yearning (libido)

Before he met you, he had no trouble controlling his libido. Everything’s different now. This upheaval upsets him far more than he’d like, which partly explains his enthusiasm for punishing you.

Z = Zzz

Dark!Ominis struggles with various sleep disorders that are strangely comforted when you sleep in his arms. He has given up trying to understand why, and is content to savour the mystery.

[zepskies]

Show Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: Another story for the Espresso-verse! This is set after “Devour Me,” and plays on plot threads in “Midnight Espresso” and the flashbacks in “In Bad Weather.”

Word Count: 3,100

Tags/Warnings: Angst, body shaming, body insecurity, protective Dean.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “Objects Are Closer Than They Appear”

Hunter funerals aren’t supposed to be lively affairs.

Alicia Jackson is special, however. She’s known so well throughout the hunter community that news of her death creates a kind of reunion at her mother’s house after the funeral, not unlike Asa Fox’s wake last year.

Even you had known Alicia, though not particularly well. You met her through Eileen. They’d called for your help on a ciguapa case a few months ago, and ever since, Alicia had insisted on buying you a beer anytime she was in town.

So today, Sam and Dean are really supporting you and Eileen by coming along.

Alicia’s mother, Martha, is a lovely Haitian woman in her late sixties. Her house is modest, but welcoming. She’s a gracious host to have so many rough and tumble hunters in her home.

The wake is mainly gathered in the backyard, where plastic tables and chair have been set up. Most of the hunters have collected into groups of the ones they know, sharing stories, laughing, eating, and drinking.

You’re in the kitchen with Martha, as you’ve offered to help her put out some more beers on the table outside. The smaller woman falters for a moment when she glances at a framed picture of her daughter on the wall. Alicia was beautiful, with coal-dark skin and soulful brown eyes she’d inherited from her mother.

You end up holding Martha’s hands in comfort when she nearly crumbles again. Your heart breaks for her. Even if you hadn’t been that close with Alicia, you’d hope that someone would take care of your own mother in a situation like this.

“She just has so many friends,” Martha says, with a tearful chuckle. “I never realized…”

“We try to look after each other,” you reply, smiling. “Everyone here knew your daughter, if not personally, then by reputation. And guaranteed, all of them have at least one good story to share.”

Martha nods. Somehow, she’s able to smile through her tears as she pats your hand. 

After spending a few more minutes with her, you predictably find Dean by a long table of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

“Babe, you gotta try these mini quiche. They’re delicious,” he says, after popping another pastry into his mouth. You can see that he’s eaten nearly a whole tray while he’s been waiting for you.

“You realize we’re at a wake, not the Golden Corral,” you lightly tease. He shrugs.

“Still gotta eat, right?” he says.

His capacity for food knows no bounds, but you love him for it.

You glance over at Sam and Eileen chatting with a small group of hunters under the shade of a tree. They’re sitting close together at a picnic table. Your lips form a subtle smile, and you lean in close to Dean.

“Look at your brother, being a supportive non-boyfriend,” you say. They’ve been loosely “dating” for weeks, though you aren’t sure they’ve put an official label on what they are together.

Dean’s expression turns both fond and amused. “Think they’ve sealed the deal yet?”

You glance over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Dean waggles his brows suggestively. You do know what he means, and you playfully smack his chest. Mostly to stop him before he starts making lewd hand motions.

“Come on, that’s none of our business,” you reply. Inside though, you’re wondering the same thing.

Dean spies the look on your face and smirks.

“See. You’re curious too,” he says. He gestures at your face with the same hand that holds a bacon-wrapped cocktail weenie. You have to raise a hand to fend him off when he tries to veer it into your mouth.

“Don’t point at me with your sausage,” you quip.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that particular complaint outta your mouth before,” he smirks.

He eventually gives up on feeding you and eats it himself. His warm gaze is still on you though. You start to blush.

“Again, we’re literally at a funeral reception,” you say, despite your growing smile.

His gait becomes more flirtatious as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Like I said. We still gotta eat, don’t we?”

You splutter laughing, though you attempt to contain it behind your hand. Dean’s chuckle resonates through you when he pulls you in by your waist. His thumb brushes your hip. He’s not so much into PDA, and certainly not as “touchy” as you, but this much will do for now. You lean into him in turn.

He finishes off his umpteenth hours d’oeuvre and sets his nearly empty beer on the table. After letting loose a barely stifled belch, he mentions something about finding a bathroom.

“Dogs are already barkin’, huh?” you tease.

“Yep,” he freely admits, patting his stomach. “Give me five minutes…or ten.”

He squeezes your arm in parting before he takes off down the hall at a purposeful pace. It leaves you to contemplate the mini quiche.

Damn, they do look good. You bend over the table slightly to peruse your options, when a familiar voice drawls behind you.

“Still got a fat ass,” he teases.

You freeze. Slowly, you straighten up, and you turn to blink in surprise at the man who stands there, holding a beer and wearing a playful smile.

Yours is polite at best as you try to get through your shock.

“Carter,” you blurt out. What the hell are you doing here?

He greets you with an incline of his head. The way he says your name is both familiar, and a little unsettling.

You cross your arms and lean back on your heels. “You knew Alicia?”

“We tangled a few times,” Carter replies with a nod. His smile laces with a bit of innuendo, but his eyes have just enough heaviness to convince you that he really did have some kind of relationship with Alicia.

Oh, Ali. You could’ve done better, you think. You wish you’d known that tidbit of information when she was alive. You would’ve warned her.

“I’m sorry for your loss then,” you say. Carter nods again. A silence falls awkwardly between you two.

“Is that all we’re gonna say to each other?” he asks. “It’s been…what, a couple years?”

“Almost four,” you supply. You and Carter had ended just a few months before you met Sam and Dean, a little over three years ago now. You and Dean hadn’t started dating until last year.

“All right,” Carter says, rubbing at his chin. His gaze roams over you with a slight smile. They take you in from your high-heeled boots and jean-clad curvy thighs, to your green blouse, laced loosely in the front. You’d decided to dress a little nicer for the occasion.

“You know, you look the same,” Carter says. His head tilts. “But different somehow.”

You raise a brow. “Different?”

“Yeah, like…” He draws closer and leans on the table beside you. He sips at his beer. “Confident. Like you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

He mimics the hunch of a turtle in its shell.

“You used to be like a little mouse sometimes,” he adds with a light chuckle.

You know he means to be teasing, but you’re not laughing. If you’re not hiding anymore, it means you’re not trying to bury yourself under shapeless clothes, along with much of your inner self.

“Don’t you think that’s a little tight?” he’d asked you once, before you two went out together. It wasn’t the first time. (And it wouldn’t be the last.)

“I’m just saying,” he would often say. “You might feel more comfortable in something a bit looser. Cover these up a little.”

You remember how he’d squeezed the softness around your sides or your stomach. You also remember a well of anxiety in your chest that had made you feel almost grotesque when you’d studied yourself in the mirror afterwards.

Objects are closer than they appear…

You remember agreeing with him. Changing clothes. Drowning yourself in crewneck shirts and breezy buttoned-downs. Always wearing pants and baggy shirts to bed. Thinking all of this was to make you comfortable, and not the man who didn’t really love you.

So now, you give him a passive look as you take Dean’s forgotten beer and finish the last sip. Carter wears a hunter’s red plaid over jeans and his old leather boots. His blonde hair is shaggy around his ears, his face a little rough with stubble, his eyes still a deep blue.

He looks exactly the same. He probably is the same.

He’s right about one thing though. You’re not the same.

“We’re not in the profession of hiding,” you finally reply. “Guess I just got tired of it.”

Carter seems to sense your shift, and maybe, what you’re really saying. His smile falls into contemplation. He crosses his arms.

“Did I spot you with one of the Winchesters earlier?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that was Dean.”

Before you can add the boyfriend part, Carter whistles lowly and shakes his head.

“I’d steer clear of them if I were you,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Those two are walking hurricanes of bad luck, blood, and mayhem,” Carter says.

“You don’t even know Sam and Dean,” you counter. Your voice is sharp and your brows knit together in thinly veiled irritation. “So I suggest you shut your mouth and steer clear of me.”

You set the beer bottle a bit hard on the table and mean to brush past him. You spot Sam and Eileen again, still sitting in their same table under the tree. You aim to head over there to wait for Dean, but a hand wraps around your arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Carter frowns.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you tell him. You’re discreet in the way you try to twist your arm out of his grip. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching you two. The last thing you want to do is make a scene here, but Carter is being a stubborn ass.

Even though you manage to wrench out of his hold, he grasps your hand next to stop you from pulling away. He looks down at your hand, brushes his thumb over your skin. His gaze looks heavy, almost melancholy.

You know that funerals tend to bring out the sentimental shoulda, coulda, woulda in hunters, but you think he might be looking back on your time together with rosier glasses than he ought to be.

“Look, I'm sorry. Can’t I at least get you a drink? We can catch up,” he says.

“Consider me caught up,” you toss back. Frustration begins to set you on edge. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this. I mean, God, we weren’t even good together.”

At that, his grip tightens on your hand. Confusion and denial cross his face.

“That’s not true,” he protests.

Unbidden, you’re forced to remember the weeks you and Carter spent in Miami, where you’d met him. You remember how he’d convinced you to leave with him after his hunt was done, and to leave your family behind. A decision you regretted to this day…

You lean in closer just to whisper hotly. “You know it is. We didn’t have a relationship. We had a transaction, in which you liked what I could do for you. But you never loved me. You never even really knew me.”

At that, his hold finally loosens in his shock. You take the opportunity to slip your hand out of his. Another familiar hand rests along your lower back, and a firm wall radiates warmth behind you.

“Hey, party people,” Dean says. He gives Carter a “pleasant” smile, and you a more genuine look. You okay? it says.

You let out a subtly relieved breath and nod. “Hey, was just gonna go check on you.”

“I’m good,” Dean says. He looks over at Carter, whose expression has cooled considerably. Still, Dean inclines his head. “Hey, man.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. His tone is bland, until his gaze slides back to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re shacking up with this one now,” he says, leveling a finger at Dean. Then he gestures across the lawn, over at Sam. “Or is it the former anti-Christ over there?”

Both you and Dean bristle. Your temper has a thin fuse right now, and while you still don’t want to make a scene, you might have to make an exception.

“Why don’t you remember where the hell you are and have some decency,” you hiss. “Do us all a favor and fuck off.”

Once again, you try to walk past him. This time when Carter grabs you, it’s because he smarts at you getting the last word. A sharp breath escapes you, and Dean intervenes with a firm, warning grip on the other man’s wrist.

“Hey, you wanna act right, before you make yourself a problem?” Dean says. His face is relaxed, but behind his eyes are a very real threat. “I got no issue laying you out right here, in front of all your buddies.”

Carter has a moment of indecision. He notices a few pairs of eyes drawing their way, and so he lets go of you, even as he sneers at Dean.

“Shove the Prince Charming bit, asshole. She ain’t a damn princess,” Carter snaps. “She don’t act like one, and she definitely don’t look like one.”

You roll your eyes at his spite, but Dean can’t quite let that one slide off his back. 

His grip tightens on Carter’s wrist as he pulls him in. He pats Carter hard on the back and smiles as if they’re old friends. But really, it just gives him the vantage point to speak lowly near the man’s ear.

“All right, douchebag. Keep talking shit. I’ll bet that’s how you’ve gotten this far in life,” Dean says. “But touch her again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your hand. And maybe, I won’t stop there.”

He tilts his head, so he can see the glimmer of intimidation hidden well behind the other man’s eyes. Then Dean lets him go. He turns and lays a hand at the small of your back. The two of you fall into step together while walking across the lawn in the backyard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

Dean frowns and notices the way your gaze has lowered. His hand moves around your waist and squeezes to get your attention. Without him realizing, it just reminds you of the way Carter used to point out the thicker curves on your body.

Cover these up a little.

“Hey, you okay—”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, easing out of his hold.

It leaves him feeling unbalanced, and a bit put out. Dean remains quiet as he follows you over to his brother’s table.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks you, discreetly, but with concern. The wake is coming to an end, and by now Dean has filled him in on your run in with your ex, Carter Hall.

You give Sam a nod and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you reply.

Dean is quiet. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets. Eileen has invited you and Dean to join her and Sam at a nearby bar to keep the evening going with a few other hunters, but this has already been one hell of a day. You’re ready to make the long drive home and call it a night.

Eileen’s also agreed to take Sam home (eventually). You notice how they share smiles, how Eileen ducks her head with the beginnings of a blush. You’re happy for them, even as you and Dean part ways with a more stifled silence on the way back to the car.

It’s late, and it’s cold. You walk beside him with your arms crossed, just to brace yourself against the windchill eating through your jacket. You glance over at your boyfriend and feel a measure of remorse for the way you brushed him off earlier. You have a feeling that’s part of the reason why he’s quiet, giving you your space.

You decide to close the distance. You sidle up closer and curl your arm around his. Your hand slips into his as well, threading your fingers together with Dean’s.

He looks over at you with a slight raise of his brows. His lips quirk at a smile, and his hand tightens on yours. You’re able to give him a more sincere smile in return.   

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

You look up at him and bite your lower lip. “I’m starving. I never did get to try those quiche.”

It only takes a moment for you to devolve into a quiet giggle. It’s infectious, and Dean laughs with you.

“Okay, we’ll stop somewhere,” he nods. Though his eyes widen in realization. “Damn, that means you haven’t eaten since, what, this morning? Before the funeral?”

You mentally count back the hours, and you have to agree with a sheepish nod. Dean shakes his head in disapproval.

“Come on, sweetheart. You should’ve said something.”

You shrug, even though you know he’s right. Your free hand curls around his bicep, and you lay your head against his arm. He looks down at the top of your head and heaves a sigh, despite his lingering smile.

Though the peace you’ve brokered is soon interrupted.

Dean had to park down the road of Martha Jackson’s house. Two cars down is Carter, who’s about to climb into his old Honda Civic.

Damn. He’s still driving the same piece of shit too, you note. His head raises, and as if he knows he’s being watched, his attention turns toward you and Dean. You don’t allow yourself to react, other than staring across the way, directly at Carter. You wait until he looks away first, opening his door and getting into his car.

You expel a breath and brush your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Dean nods. He guides you toward the passenger side of the Impala, but his gaze lands beyond his car, to the Honda still parked and warming up. He finds Carter’s gaze through the front window for a moment.

It’s Carter who once again breaks first; he revs the ignition and peels onto the street, and down the road past them without looking back.

Dean's lips curve. Bitch.

Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders and rounds the car towards the driver’s side.

He’s more than ready to go home.

AN: *sighs* Okay, originally this story was going to be a one-shot, but it just got too damn long. Let me know what you think of Dean finally meeting her ex-douchebag, Carter.

Part 2 (coming next week) will include all the angsty hurt/comfort and smut to come...

Next Time:

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower... “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.  

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[hidden-poet]

President Snow part 3

Previous chapters; 1 and 2

Summary; After Lucy-Grey there was you.

warnings; slavery, Uncon, angst, dark!Coriolanus snow.

3/3

"Did you hear? Y/n L/n was sold into maids standing by her father last year". Festus creed plopped another Hors d'oeuvre into his mouthlike he was talking about the weather.

Coriolanus feels his body still at his words. The drink he pushed to his lips couldn't make its way into his mouth. He had looked for you at every social function. Even called upon where you once lived, only to be turned away by a new family living there.

He had assumed you had married and your family followed to where your new husband lived. If he was a manufacture he properly lived closer to the districts. The thought made him sick.

But no. You had been waiting for him. Training for him for the past year in maid training.

"I was thinking of adding her to my collection of the fallen"

Coriolanus's blood boils at the thought.

"Who?" Clemensia asks matching the almost bored expression of Festus.

"You know Arthur's daughter. The Banker who was stealing from the Pamen National bank. His daughter was a few years below us. Used to play on the volley ball team".

"When does she go to auction?" Clemensia warms at his words. She remembered her after all.

"Why so you can steal her from me?"

"What use would we have for a girl trained in fine arts and history? it won't make her a better floor scrubber. Right, Coriolanus?"

"i am still not sure who you are talking about" Coriolanus lied.

----------

Coriolanus returns home later then usual. He had gone to a party but normally he only made a quick appearance for an hour or two before returning. But this time he returned well into the night.

You wouldn't have minded if it hadn't of got so late. You were tired and he hated to come home to find you asleep. When you heard the door unlock you knew you would only have to stay up for an hour more.

As he entered the room to find you laying on the bed watching TV, he doesn't crawl over to you or demand you help him undress.

Instead he takes a dress out of your closet, that was mostly filled with his extra clothes, and tosses it to you.

"I have a surprise for you. Get dressed".

You do as your told taking off your nightdress in front of him and putting on the dark blue sun dress.

He eyes you slowly before taking your hand and leading you down the hall to the living room.

You wondered about the surprise and the need to dress for it. Normally his surprises entailed the exact opposite.

It made sense when you turned the corner and saw an elderly man sitting on the large white couch.

You heart leaps at the sight of your father sitting in the living room.

"dad" you cry tearing your hand from Coriolanus . He gets up upon seeing you and you both throw your arms around each other.

"Oh my baby". His arms felt safe and secure.

Coriolanus is quick to breck up the scene, taking you back into his grasp with a tight hold on your wrist. He brings you to the other side of the couch, away from your father.

"given your rise i thought you might like the opportunity to buy back your daughter" Coriolanus spoke with a cold hard tone.

Your toes curled in excitement. You were going home and you were going home a lady.

Your father straightened his back and shook off imaginary weight from his shoulders.

"I sure would. How much did you pay?"

"Less then what she is worth and less then what she is currently worth after my teachings".

You shudder. He was going to make this more difficult then it had to be.

"Lets start at a thousand panars".

"Let me show you the door at a thousand panars. My shoes cost more".

You wrap your hand around Coriolanus's wrist as he held yours. That was a good offer he spat at.

"Please Coriolanus" you beg.

-------

Coriolanus had a private showing at the slave quater the very next morning.

It was the earliest he could convince the owner of the house to have a showing. Which still wasn't early enough for him.

He paced through lines of young girls trying to find you. He remembered what you liked like at the Academy but people had a awful habit of changing.

He stopped in front of one girl who could have been you. Roughly the same height as he remembered. Same color eyes, although he never saw them up close so he couldn't be certain. Her hair seemed a lighter shade of Y/H/C and her nose seemed larger.

He continued satisficed that she most likely was not the girl he was looking for. He continues through the line of girls all dressed neatly in simple white dresses. They were more like potato sacks with arm holes.

They were organized according to training and skill. The girls who had been with the house the longest and received the most training were shown first.

He skipped the queue, you wouldn't be amongst them. He started in the middle and grew more frustrated as he neared the end. He knew once he spotted you he would know.

He scanned ahead looking for your hair color and height.

He saw a possibility far off and bee lined for it, ignoring the words of the owner as he took off.

Once he stood in front of you, he knew without a doubt that you were her. His Y/N.

You had barely changed from his memory. You had lost a little bit of weight no doubt from the stress of it all. Your eyes had dulled over a tad and your hair was less shiny and neat, but all the same you were as he remembered.

"President Snow, she is only trained as a house maid. She wouldn't be trained adequately for you", the owner of the house explained.

"Good then I don't have to train her out of annoying habits".

You looked worried, and he wondered if it was at the thought of being chosen or at not being chosen.

"Open your mouth" His first command to you.

You do and he pretends to check your teeth. Not an unordinary practice for a buyer but not of interest for Coriolanus.

He had longed to exert control over you.

Walking to school he would day dream to make the trek bearable in his tight shoes.

He dray dreamed he would find you at school and pluck the flowers out of your hair. "Don't wear these. They make you look childish" he would say.

At lunch time he would take the liberty of filling both your plates with food of his choice while you trailed close behind him.

You would wait for him after each class at his place of choosing. sometimes waiting just outside the door while he astonishes the classroom with his hard learned knowledge. He was sure he was going to get the Plinth prize and go off to university. There would be no need for you to do the same.

But his poverty kept him shackled and your money (however so dwindling) kept you safe.

Before if he told you to open your mouth for inspection you would laugh at him, now if he told you to hop on the spot, you would hop.

"how much?" he asked the sweaty little owner.

They agreed and you were tossed in the sold cage while Coriolanus filled out paperwork. He tired not to seem egger to collet you.

He had never personally brought a maid and had no idea it involved this much paper. He only glanced at whatever he was signing, trusting the person who explained each document to him.

When he was finally allowed to go collect you, he found himself stuck at the door.

How would he approach this? should he call you by your name to show he knew you or place the burden on you to make the connection.

You never even talked to him in school but perhaps you shared the same quiet fascination with him.

If not, he was still President Snow, and you were a loyal subject. He could image you would be awe-struck at the opportunity to serve him.

He yanked open the door and walked with powerful strides. You were sitting in the holding cell, curled into a ball on the floor.

You got up upon seeing him, and came closer to the bars.

"Here" he held out a cold water bottle that he got from the owners assistant. He wished he drank some of it. He would have spat in it if he had registered that he was going to give it to you.

his action took you both by surprise. But you take it.

"Thank you, President Snow".

He gained no sense of familiarity with your words.

He waited for a 'we went to school together' or a 'I always knew you were going to be President of Panem'.

But nothing came. You drank your water and even separated yourself from the bars.

You gave no sign you recognized him from the Academy days. You gave no plea to his sense of fellowship, or tried to give yourself false standing upon your upbringing.

When he had asked about your standing you had told him you were born into your situation. A bold move to someone who held your paperwork in his hand. The entire history of you, as well as your in and outs.

Still he didn't correct you. Perhaps you were waiting to pull the secret past card for a rainy day.

"Your name is Y/N? is that correct"

two could play the i don't remember game.

You nod.

"Well Y/N, in about 10 minutes two peacekeepers will come and take you to a van where you will be escorted to the Presidential estate. From there the Headmistress will make you presentable and begin your training as my servant".

His hands curl around the bars and he pushes himself closer to you.

"I have high expectations of you. Don't disappoint me".

-----------

'Coriolanus please. I'll come back any time you want me to. Do anything for you. But please let me return home".

Your words took his mind breifly to imagining a different life with you. They never caught him for cheating and with the Plinth prize under him, he took your hand in marriage.

And yet still, in his imagation you stood in the living room, perhaps better dressed, and said the same words.

He really did just want to own you.

Coriolanus said nothing and turned his eyes back to your father.

"You made a deal with Mr Grenge for 300 million panams. So my price for Y/N is 300 million panams"

"that's everything" he father mutters.

'She is everything". You didn't believe it. Not to him.

"I-I Can't. I'd be ruined again".

"You could always sell her back. At a discount of course".

'Please" you try again.

"It would be a fun 18 hours for you" Coriolanus taunts.

"we could pay in instalments" you father tries.

"Do i seem like a patient man?"

"Patient enough to wait for your time to strike" Your father is seething, "It wasn't surprise I felt about her being here, only dread".

Coriolanus smirks trying to hide it by rubbing his forefinger across his bottom lip.

" I saw you every time I picked her up from school. Lingering in the background like a parasite. Coriolanus Snow's got eyes for my daughter, I thought to myself, how harmful could he truly be".

He dad crosses the boundary of the living room table. His face contorted with anger.

"Then I saw you dangle that poor district 12 girl in the Hunger games. You were no harmless school boy, I realized, you were your fathers son. And that is a very dangerous thing to be".

"Careful. You don't speak to that school boy now. President Snow is who you address, and you've said enough to get yourself hanged".

You place a hand on Coriolanus shoulder as if to keep him pinned to the chair.

"Y/N I am so sorry. He was gone when I sold you. I thought you'd be house maid to one of the lady's. I never thought he'd get his hands on you".

The old man takes you into his arms. His baby daughter who he threw directly into the mouth of the wolf.

"No sale has been made yet" Coriolanus reminds him, "Do we have a deal of 300 million panems or are you touching some one else's property?".

--------

The first few months in the presidential estate were terrible and Coriolanus saw to it.

You were beaten for everything for quick training. Even things you were sure you did right were wrong.

He had to give it to you, despite your privileged up bringing, you were a hard worker. Every time he checked on you, which was often, you were never found sitting down. Always on the move scrubbing something, dusting something, organizing lien cupboards.

He only caught you once reading a passage from a poetry book kept in the library. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He remembered you loved to read.

You would often read stretched out in the sun during lunch time at the academy garden. Coriolanus would watch from the schools library window, when he should have been studying. You again were interfering with him being the best he could be.

He called upon you during your dinner time. Requesting your presence in his office.

When you entered you saw your headmistress standing on the opposite side of the desk.

Coriolanus sat in his chair, looking bored. His head resting in his hand, not looking at the headmistress or you. Just staring blankly at his desk.

As you enter you can see the wooden Cain and the poetry book laying flat on the desk. Your legs turn to jelly the closer you got.

"President Snow. Headmistress" you greet.

"Which poem was it that caught your eye?" The old women grumbled.

You bring your hands to your chest and wring them together. You were still sore from your beating last night. You weren't sure you could take another one.

"i was only checking the book. The pages seemed loosed".

"Are you suggesting that the presidential estate would house such a book?"

You try and back track on your lie. Blaming lack of sleep and food for your mistake of the falling pages.

Coriolanus reaches for the book, flipping it to a random page and placing it back on the desk.

"Place your hands on the desk and read it" The headmistress demands, picking up the cain.

You face Coriolanus who watches you from his seat. You eyes swell with tears that spilled on it the page. He would keep the book in his draw rather than the library.

''My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk''

The headmistress brings the cain down upon your back, and your sentence comes out as a yelp.

"Or, or, or emptied some dull-ll opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had-saH-Sunk!".

It strikes after each pause. Your hands curl into fists upon the page.

"Tis,not,through,envy,of, thy,happy,lot" You rush and two strikes come down upon your back.

"Cheeky girl!" your headmistress reprimanded.

"But being too happy in thine happines" you slow.

He closes his eyes to the sound of the Cain coming down and images the school garden. Both school children again in the red uniforms. You lay in the sun together. Coriolanus rested his head on your lap as you read out your poem. You stroke his hair and he feels the warm sun on his face.

Your desperate act pulls him from his day dream. He looks at the women before him. A women he owed.

No school children in sight; the President of Panem and a slave take their place.

You finish your poem looking up to him for salvation. You do not receive it.

"Again" he demanded.

He wouldn't leave during your nightly flogging. He would lock the door and free his cock from his trousers. He loved the thought of you so vunruable, so brusied and battered at his command.

He would image you with your dress down, tied to the whipping post as he brought the whip down on you. He imaged your squirming and crying for him. God, there was nothing he loved more than control.

He would wait until the flogging was announced to be over before he would return home.

He was always so sure that you would come to him the very next morning and beg for him to save you from the whipping post. Exchanging anything in return.

-----------

"I am so sorry. I have your mother to look after. She's not been well Y/N"

"Dad you can't leave me here"

"We'll visit" He insisted.

"No you won't"

You both turn to Coriolanus in his chair, half forgotten he was there.

"We'll write to you"

"It won't be delivered"

"I am sorry" your father finally accepted, 'Maybe once I make more money".

"Daddy please" you whine. He won't be given another chance, you know it. You weren't sure this chance was entirely truthful.

"I am so sorry" he repeats pulling away from you. He rushes to collet his things. You aim to go to him, to hold him one last time but Coriolanus rises from his chair.

He takes your hand in a tight grip.

"You'll find a maid downstairs. She'll help you to the door".

Your father looks at Coriolanus with hate filled eyes, but nodded his head in understanding. President Snow held all the cards, you both were nothing but pawns for him to entertain himself with.

'So sorry we could not do business together".

Your father doesn't answer too overcome with emotion of selling his daughter for a second time. He rushes away in shame and you fall to your knees.

Coriolanus lets go of your hand so you could curl yourself into a ball on the floor.

He lets you sob and heave on the floor by his feet. He knew telling you to stop would be a waste of breath.

He waits until you can control your breath again before he crouches down next to you.

He snakes a arm under your side to pull you to his chest. His arm curls around your shoulders to keep you there, while his hand cradles the back of your head. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while you sob. Loudly and painfully, you sob into his chest.

You can hear footsteps pounding down the hall way and you knew it was Clemessia.

"Get her to stop or I'll hang her by her feet in my study. She'll wake the children".

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at her but does not uncurl his body from you to follow her command.

You quieten anyway. It's fine, you tell yourself, you've lost nothing.

You hold your breath counting to a slow ten and then release it a couple of times. It helped regain your composure.

Coriolanus unhooks himself from you and reaches into his breast pocket to pull out his handkerchief. He wipes your face clean from snot and tears with an emotionless expression.

You weren't sure you could walk so when he picked you up and took you back to the bedroom you were thankful to not have to find out.

----------

Coriolanus spits his tea back into the cup.

There was nothing wrong with it. But he loved how panicked you got.

Your lips would part, your eyes fell wide, your chest would puff up.

How could there be something wrong with the tea again.

'i am so sorry, President Snow. I'll make another" You go to take the cup back.

'What's the point? You disturb me every time you come with another pot".

"I'll try not to in the future, Sir".

"what good are your efforts. I've watched you try for the past six months. You only slightly improved".

'i can do better. I will do better".

He loved the grovel.

"maybe the night without supper would help to refocus your mind?"

Your body tensed, and he could feel the anger radiating off you, even if he couldn't see it upon your face.

'Is that a good idea?" he teased.

"Yes, Sir" You tried not to spit the words.

"Good. Then it's settled. Go about your chores".

The next day he offered you a biscuit from his tray, and said nothing about his tea. Even through this one was too sweet for his liking.

It was the first time your hunger overtook your pride. You took it with a small thanks, excusing yourself at the first opportunity.

he watched the camera link. You had gobbled the biscuit down as soon as the door closed behind you.

Once a lady now a beggar.

-------

He took you to the bedroom and laid you down.

You didn't move. You couldn't move.

He talked as he undressed you.

"I know that was painful for you but you needed to see it".

He yanked your dress over your hand, leaving you in only your panties.

You turn from him to your side but he flips you back.

tears still run down your face but you make no noise.

"Why. So you could see it?" you bit.

"At some point you have accept your life here".

He slides your panties down your legs, leaving them on the floor.

"was it true?" you ask, "that we both went to the Academy".

"yes. I had a terrible crush on you for many years". Crush he called it but it couldn't be further from the truth.

"i never even noticed you all those years". The sentence stung him a bit.

He places his lips on your neck and bites down. You wiggle under him, pushing on his shoulders.

"You are making me suffer because you had a school boy crush?"

He rises up and undresses himself from his many layers.

"i am making you suffer because I can". He makes haste with the many buttons on his vest.

His sentence quietens you. He could make you suffer just because he wanted to. he could make your family suffer just because he wanted to.

He rips the clothes from his body, leaving them a messy pile on the floor.

He drags you to the center of the bed and crawls on top.

"In any case who would you rather, me, President of Panem, or some old business man, bored with his wife. That's who you would have gone to".

You try and turn to your side again but his hands catch your shoulders and bring them flat on the mattress again.

"You should really say thank you". He pumps himself over you.

You don't say anything, and your ungratefulness resulted in a harsh hold on your chin.

"Say it. Say thank you" he demands.

"Thank you" You spit hard and fast.

"Thank you, President snow". He nudges your legs further apart and lines himself up to your entrance.

"Thank you, President SNow" he enters you without warning and starts a steady thrust.

It had been years with him. Sex with him wasn't something you even blinked at. On occasion you could have even been called a participant.

But not tonight. You couldn't even rock your hips for your own feeling. You just lay there and take it.

Something about night had made Coriolanus feel like a school boy again, and he took it out in his hard and rough thrusts. He was President Snow and you would remember it.

He begins to sing the national anthem of Panem.

"Oh, Horn of Plenty One Horn of Plenty for us all! And when you raise-ah- the cry The brave shall heed the call And we shall never falter, hmm"

He grunts in your ear. He pushes himself upright where with his new position he places both his hands on your hips and pulls you closer so your legs were hooked over his hips.

"And when we raise the cry-y the brave shall heed", he huffs, "the call and we shall never fall"

He new position gave him deeper thrusts. As the song ends his hips loose their rhythm.

"Oh, Capitol Your glorious diamond shine A tribute to' The darkest days behind Oh! One Horn of Plenty for us all"

He bucks his hips as he leans back over you on the bed, a hand resting by the side of your head to keep his weight off you and the other used to keep your leg over his hip.

He never fully leaves you before he slams back in.

He groans as he cums, letting you milk him of anything he had left. Even after that he remains in you.

Coriolanus lets out a short breathy laugh, dropping your leg and pushing his body down on you. You huff in protest but he doesn't care. Placing small kisses and bites along your skin.

You remain still. Numb from the events of the night. You didn't even say goodbye to your father. You knew you would never see him again.

Coriolanus spent by using you, rests his head on your chest.

"Someday some one will kill you for your wrong doings, Coriolanus". You warn.

He chuckles in response. It won't be by his doll.

----

Years later you stand in the crowd watching Katniss Everdeen raise her bow and arrow at Coriolanus.

You smile waiting for her to let go. You could see Coriolanus's eyes searching for you in the crown, unable to find you as hide amongst the people, before his settles on the eyes of his executer.

"MockingJay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure".

The arrow flies but enters the heart of the Coin.

Coriolanus begins to laugh, blood spilling from his mouth as he does.

As the blood coats his shirt it is a reminder of his misdeeds. Against his people, his family, and importantly you.

You charge taking along a crowd of people with you.

[gallavichthings]

It's time!

How would you all like 21 22 fics on the 21st 22nd of December?

The Gallavich Masquerade Ball 2023 is now open! Grab a glass of champagne or anything else you'd prefer, some hors d'oeuvres, and choose your (first) dance partner for the night!

You can check all the fics in our AO3 collection or on this post, after the cut. A list of all authors with links to their profiles is also included. This post is pinned so you can check it whenever you want.

And here's the link for the form where you can put your guesses. It's only one form for all the fics, so please wait to submit your guesses only after you've read them all.

Here's the updated point system:

Points for readers: Correct guess on first choice: 5 points. Correct guess on second choice: 2 points. Incorrect guess: lose 1 point. (Please note that you only lose 1 point per story, even if you guess incorrectly on both choices.)

Points for writers: If someone correctly guesses your fic (regardless of in the first or second choice): 1 point. If someone wrongfully guesses your fic: 3 points.

Leaving kudos and comments is allowed and appreciated! Writers are also allowed to answer, but it's up to them whether to already do it or wait until everyone's identity is revealed so as not to give anything away accidentally. Oh, and if you want to post something about the fics here on Tumblr but can't tag them, I can serve as buffer for now lol.

Oh, and the surprise? The winners will get some great fanart, courtesy of the talented @doshiart! Isn't that awesome?! 🥂

Cheers!

Keep reading to get a list of all the fics with their summaries and word count, as well as a list of all the authors, with links to their AO3 profiles.

FICS:

AITA?  (2,072)

AITA? My new clients (29M and 31M) threatened me and I want to fire them. I know that’s not official therapist speak. TLDR; I want to encourage them to have healthier boundaries and find a new therapist, but until then, what do I do?

Attitude adjustment (4,483)

Post-canon Ian and Mickey figure out some relationship issues. That includes insults, (play-)fighting, more insults, and orgasms. Or: Mickey is having an attitude. Thank god Ian knows exactly what to do.

Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red (1,838)

Ian poses in a life drawing class. A straight forward job, if not for the guy with the blue eyes who can't stop staring at him.

Carnival (3,136)

Ian and Mickey spend the evening at a carnival... "Ian locked the car’s door, and put his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, as they walked towards the carnival. He had brought the leaflet home a few days ago, wiggling the colorful sketch of a carousel and the outdated font under Mickey’s nose with some hopeful glee. Mickey had protested for habit sake, but had caved in pretty easily..."

Five Dates with Brad f*cking Pitt (4,269)

Sometimes things may not be what they seem. Especially when there are assholes around who add fuel to the fire just for the sake of a fucking joke.

Groceries (2,260)

A routine trip to the store turns into a trip down memory lane.

The Guardians (4,879)

3,000 years ago, they had to join forces to defeat an evil sorcerer. Now, the sorcerer was back, and more powerful than ever. Could they defeat him for good?

i'll find a new place to be from (5,947)

They stand in silence for a couple beats, unspoken words lingering above their heads. The cig in his hand has long burned out and Ian resists the temptation to light up another, and another. He feels his mouth open, and close, then open again–but nothing comes out. Time’s up. "See you inside, Red," Mickey finally says before pushing the door open, and Ian remembers how to breathe.

Infused Attraction (3,434)

Mickey has to receive Iron infusions. Ian is a student nurse who is assisting the other nurses with the infusion. Mickey is interested in the redhead. Ian is seemingly interested in him too. Let's see how it goes!

Italy (I Trust And Love You) (3,183)

"Ian closed his eyes and ran a hand through his damp hair. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath, as if to steal himself for some monumental task, and walked off down the sidewalk. The rain made quick work of drenching him. Ian didn’t seem to notice. In the dirt beneath the tree, drawn in crude blocky letters made with the toe of his boot: I + M." OR A story mostly told through Debbie's eyes during world war two, as she worries for all her brothers, but particularly the one sent home much before the rest.

Jump To Recipe (5,977)

Hiring Mickey Milkovich - Freelance Photographer to shoot the photos for his food blog was the best move Ian’s ever made. Mickey’s a fantastic shot, plus he’s committed to the success of Ian’s blog. (He’s fucking hot, too. But that’s just an added bonus.) And the best thing about him, is that in all the ways he’s professional behind the camera, he’s refreshingly unprofessional to Ian’s face. Which means when he comes around, Ian always knows he’s in for a good laugh, intriguing conversation, and an ego boost - Mickey never shy about how much he loves Ian’s food when they dig in after the shoot. Ian’s made chocolate lava cake today. But when extra time leads to their at-home appointment going way off script - Mickey wanting to update Ian’s headshots, but with a twist - who will the spicier photos leave wanting more, the “housewife army” from his blog’s comment section, or Ian and Mickey?

A Lot (4,245)

What could have happened if Ian had told Mickey that he was worried about going to Mexico with him?

The man in the van (2,141)

“Suppose I should thank you for the compliment then,” Ian teases, smirking a little. The guy snorts. “Don’t mention it, Red. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He proceeds to shamelessly check Ian out again, licking the corner of his mouth as he does. or Ian Gallagher wouldn't mind some excitement in his life. Enter one Mickey Milkovich, ready to oblige.

ole red (5,596)

Mickey is out of prison and walking the straight and narrow with help of his cheering section, P.O. Larry . It’s hard being tough in a pastel polo and dad shorts. Old Army is just a paycheck until he meets the assistant manager, Ian. Finally he figures out Ian was Mandy’s Ian from their teen years. Mickey is attracted to the redhead but is still closeted. Ian responds to Mickey lashing out by revealing he knows Mickey’s secret. Mickey decides to be brave and the reward , huge 😈

The Reason to Exist (4,851)

lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: can you stop stealing my loot lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: this team only needs 1 sharpshooter anyway 😐 mm1234567890 [18:23]: shut up u f** lieutenantcolonel [18:23]: WHAT

Red Hot (4,364)

Ian's workday has been shitty... but his afternoon might just be very different. Thanks to his favorite nephew and a certain mouthy and opinionated stall owner at the winter farmer's market.

A Salute Before We Sink (4,601)

The world will end tomorrow. Ian's only chance at survival is to earn a spot in an underground bunker. One man stands in his way.

Snowballs and Sneaking Out (2,441)

Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.

So drunk on you (3,878)

"Then Mickey launches himself into quite a detailed account of the previous evening and there goes Ian’s sanity. He’s learned over the months to hone his selective hearing. That is, he’s not tuning Mickey out completely but he’s trained his brain to gloss over the facts that fall under the TMI category and focus on the highlights. Again, for the sake of his sanity. Because the thing is, he’s so gone on Mickey it’s actually embarrassing. And he’s been gone pretty much from the very beginning." Just another friends-to-lovers story.

Span the Distance, Bridge the Border (4,988)

Ian and Mickey are happy, living on the West Side and adjusting to life as husbands in their new apartment. Things are going well, really well, until one day Mickey’s brothers show up. And God only knows what they could possibly want.

weight of the world (3,360)

Mickey thought he was fucked for life and that he’d never see his mom again. Turns out he was wrong about both of those things.

Wonderful- a Gallavich Christmas Mini-fic (5,030)

In which Mickey learns the reason for the season or How the Mick gained Christmas.

AUTHORS:

Blodeuwedd

Calli_Writes

Captain_Jowl

energie_vie

Gallabitch73

gallawitch

Gembu

GrandSelfMythology

IanGalagher

JuliaKay

lingy910y

MissSnowwhitepink

mmmichyyy

My_Brain_Melted

NotHereNJ

Rayrayor

sam_writes_fics

Suzy_Queue

sweet_perversion

Sweetbee78

whatthebodygraspsnot

whatyouandihave

[hopefulkidshark]

Lake Willoughby, Vermont, United States: Lake Willoughby is located in the town of Westmore in Orleans County in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, United States. The lake's southern end is surrounded by the Willoughby State Forest. This state forest includes Mount Pisgah, Mount Hor, collectively "Willoughby Gap". Wikipedia

[burritowitch]

bruce: im only human Terry: i keep forgetting

bruce: its not easy to give up being god terry: you would know

terry: am i supposed to have eyes everywhere bruce: only if you want to live to a ripe old age terry: you dont make it sound too inviting

bruce: what kept you terry: i figured hed at least wait until after the hors d'oeuvres

bruce: what exactly did you say to get him mad at me. you must have given quite the performance terry: who said anything about performing

bruce: is anything broken terry: if i said yes could i go home bruce: no

a collection of batman beyond quotes, showing how fucking foul terry is to bruce. hes so funny

[reidsaurora]

"Hot Chocolate, White Lies" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: Aaron might be a pain in the ass to shop for, but at least he's cute.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader (Reader does wear makeup)

Word Count: 1,444

Content Warning: mild swearing, mentions of food, i think that's it!

Extra Notes: i took creative liberties with the things featured in this fic, sue me (also sorry for the sh!tty summary, it will happen again) // icon in collage is by @catsadams

Beta Read By: @theghouligan 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 10/12/2023 through 10/19/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

There were many things you were unsure of, but one thing you did know was that autumn was your absolute favorite time of the whole year.

The mornings when you were both home from cases usually started slow and sweet. You'd wake up ten minutes past your alarm, Aaron's chapped lips the only thing strong enough to awaken you from your slumber. You'd press to know why he allowed you to be late, but he'd just insist, "We have nowhere important to be. Besides, you just looked so peaceful. How could I ever wake you?"

When you finally rolled out of bed, his hands would be on your waist, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck as the two of you made your way into the kitchen. You'd start on a pan of French toast while Aaron put on the coffee, stealing quick kisses as the two of you glided around the space, each of you already anticipating the other's every move.

Then, you'd eat together in the breakfast nook, the sunlight glowing all around him, somehow making his five-o'clock shadow and bedhead seem ethereal. The conversation would flow from topic to topic as easily as water flowed downstream. But this particular day, there was one topic Aaron seemed to be actively avoiding.

It was a week from his birthday, and while he knew better than to tell you not to get him anything, he would still put his foot down about making a big deal out of the situation. If one person found out, then they'd all find out, and truly, his only wish every year was to spend his birthday with the person he loved most, not the entirety of the FBI. He'd much rather have take-out and a cheap bottle of wine in the comfort of his own home than hors d'oeuvres and expensive champagne with people he hardly knew.

Still, you'd tried all morning to get him to crack and tell you what he wanted for his birthday. But his response was always the same: "You're the only thing I need, my love."

One somewhat pointless conversation and a plate of French toast later, the two of you were headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. He'd head into the bathroom to shave, and you'd steal glances of him as you got dressed in the bedroom. Then he'd do the same, eyeing you with absolute love and adoration as you applied layers of makeup he still insisted you didn't need, even after years of marriage.

Soon enough, you'd arrive at your favorite little bookstore and cafe. Any onlooker would immediately be able to tell just how in love Aaron was with you, sporting a matching sweater you'd clearly picked out and his hand only parting from yours to open the door, which he insisted on doing any time you went anywhere together.

"Alright, I'm setting you free," he joked, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Don't cause too much chaos in the romance aisle, okay?"

You giggled, leaning up to kiss him on the lips for once. "I'll only squeal if they have anything signed by my favorite author."

And with that, he was headed off to the cafe side of the building, going to collect a cup of your favorite hot chocolate. Most people preferred to drink coffee while they shopped, but to you, nothing beat curling the sleeves of your sweater around your hands and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Even after years of coming to this place, you still hadn't figured out how they made it taste infinitely better than other hot chocolate you'd ever had.

Once you were absolutely sure Aaron was in line at the cafe, you were bee-lining in the opposite direction of the romance aisle and over to the literary fiction section.

While you'd originally told Aaron you wanted to go to the bookstore under the guise of wanting to see if they had a copy of a new release you'd been excited about, you secretly had other plans. If he wasn't going to tell you what he wanted, you'd take matters into your own hands.

You peered around one of the shelves to make sure he wasn't looking, letting out a quick sigh of relief as you spotted him reading something on his phone.

You had all of about three minutes to find a couple books that he hadn't read, which was no small feat. Nearly every second of Aaron's free time was spent devouring a novel, and while you loved that he had found a hobby he truly enjoyed, it also made it devastatingly hard to buy him new books.

In roughly two and a half minutes, you'd managed to find three books that you were sure Aaron would love. Then, you were all but sprinting over to the romance section and grabbing the first book you saw, reading the back cover nonchalantly as your husband walked up.

You were reading the back of some novel about two rival scientists falling in love when Aaron got back with two cups of hot chocolate and a sugar cookie the size of your face. "Your drink, my dear," he said, holding out one of the cups.

You took the cup from him, inhaling that first anticipated sip of the warm liquid. "Thank you."

"You found anything interesting yet?" he asked, a hand meeting the small of your back.

You shook your head, placing the scientist romance novel back on the shelf and picking up another book with a beautiful pink cover. "Nothing much. No signed copies so you'll be glad to know I won't be disturbing the other readers with my squeals."

He chuckled, a deep sound that made butterflies go off in your stomach every time you heard it. "Thank you, I'm sure it's appreciated," he kidded. He took the tote from your shoulder, immediately registering the weight of the bag. "Nothing much?" he inquired.

Before he could open the bag to look inside, you were swatting his hand and snatching it away. "It's… an encyclopedia I promised Reid I'd get for him if I saw it."

Aaron cocked an eyebrow at you. "Since when do you go shopping for Reid?" he inquired, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

You wracked your brain for some kind of response that sounded at least halfway truthful. "He hasn't been able to find it anywhere and he knew we liked coming here, so he asked me to check next time we came."

That skeptical brow of his only raised itself higher. "Well, there's one flaw with your story and that's that I'm a profiler and I know when you're lying to me."

Before you could form a rebuttal, he was taking the bag out of your hands again. "Aaron, don't-" you barely got out the words before he was holding up the copy of The Midnight Library.

His brows furrowed as he held up the book, examining the cover for a moment. "This isn't a romance."

You let out an exasperated breath at his examination. "That's kind of the point, Aaron."

"Well, I thought we came to find a copy of that new book you've been looking for."

You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a small huff of amusement. "I suppose I should come clean. I did lie to you."

Aaron's mouth flew open in fake shock. "No! I never would've guessed."

"Not about that," you grumbled, slapping his arm. "About why we're here in the first place. I wanted to find you something for your birthday."

His features wrinkled in embarrassment, a small sigh escaping between his lips. "Well, now I look like an ass."

You were inclined to agree, he did kind of look like an ass. But he was a cute ass and you wouldn't want him any other way. Hands flying up to his cheeks, you pulled him down for a long and soft kiss. His wrinkles of slight mortification melted away as he settled into your touch, the scents of hot chocolate and new books taking over each of your senses.

Aaron was the first to pull away, moving his kiss from your lips to your forehead, before meeting you with an expression filled with admiration. "You-"

"-'Didn't have to get me anything.' I know," you finished for him. "But these ones seem really interesting and I thought that maybe we could read them together."

His mouth curved upward into that smile of his that was so sweet, so loving, so… Aaron. "If I'm going to share a book, I'm always going to hope it's with you."

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